Rocked Releases July 10th! (Links Below)

Chapter 1

Albuquerque, NM

My job is to keep them on track and make sure they are where they need to be before, during, and after the show.

Interviews? No problem.

Appearances outside of the arenas? Easy-peasy.

Keeping the shows running like a well-oiled machine? Piece of fucking cake.

Cycle of Sin is currently sitting at number one on every rock chart ever published, and I am their tour manager, Bristol Mateo. I’ve been with them for two years now, and I’ve seen it all. The term “sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll” was coined for a reason.

Until recently, I didn’t let it bother me. They’re rockstars, and the lifestyle they lead has always been a bit hardcore, but over this current tour, they’ve been…different, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with them.

The partying is still there. The backstage shenanigans continue each night and at every arena. The one thing I don’t get is the band whores. They are no longer around. The band’s new security team has kept them out of the green room and off the bus since we left Los Angeles two weeks ago. Whatever the reason, I was not informed.

Another thing that is fucking with my head? They’ve become more protective of me. Why? I have no damn clue. It’s not like this is my first rodeo. I’ve had my fair share of creepy dudes hit on me, grope me, and even beg me to marry them. Not until this tour has it ever been a problem. Now, with the new security team, I’m being watched like a hawk, and anyone that gets near me is intercepted by Linc, my new ex-military bodyguard.

Don’t get me wrong, Linc is hot as hell; big blue eyes, short brown hair, uber muscular, and could probably bench press me over his cock if he was my type of guy, but he’s not. No, that’s the problem. I have five guys that take up my entire world, and I don’t have time for another man to deal with every night. The band is enough for me.

I don’t even know why I think about this shit hours before a show. I have work to do, and since the arena isn’t open to the public yet, I’ve taken it upon myself to set up the merch booth. With the number of fans who come to see them every night, we have team of people who sell the souvenirs to the fans so that I can focus on the band, but everyone is currently passed out on the bus after the partying lasted until sunrise on their night off. I’m also a bit of a control freak, and I love setting up the display before anyone gets into the arena. And it’s my alone time.

“Bristol?” a familiar voice calls to me in a scolding manner. I already know who it is, and I ignore him while I balance myself on a rickety stool to hang shirts on the metal rack system we have. “Damn it, Bristol Mateo, get down from there!”

“Oh, my god, Dean,” I gasp when his arms wrap around my small waist and pull me from the stool. My arms circle as I try to gain my balance, but he doesn’t let me go. The lead singer for Cycle of Sin turns me in his arms, and I slide down his long torso, trying my hardest to ignore the feel of his abs on the way down to the floor. My fingers dance over his fully tattooed arms, and I release him when I feel an electric shock to my soul.

“You know better than to do that by yourself,” he groans, slicking his long black hair to the back of his head. I recently shaved the sides to give him a mohawk look, and it seems to be a hit with the fans. It wasn’t done for looks. We did it because of how sweaty he gets on stage. The shorter sides keep him somewhat cool during the hour and a half he performs each night. “Why didn’t you call Heath in to help you?”

“Heath needs to sleep,” I answer and roll my eyes. “He stayed up late partying with you, and I wanted to let the crew sleep a little longer so that they would be ready for tonight’s show.”

“With me?” Dean balks, his beautiful green eyes widened in humor. His hair falls forward and covers one of his eyes as he leans in to get close to my face. “It wasn’t just me who was partying. Blame Hunter for that little fiasco last night, and don’t tell me you weren’t having fun either.”

Hunter, our drummer, is the wild one. He’s always the first one to get things going and usually the last one to crash and burn. The other guys, Sebastian, Evan, and Austin were just as guilty for the all-nighter. It’s almost two in the afternoon and everyone is still passed out in their bunks.

“I had fun, until I gave up and locked myself in the back bedroom,” I shrug. The tour bus consists of nine bunks and a back room that had been converted from a lounge area to my bedroom. I’m the only female on the bus, and of course, I called dibs on it when I took the job. None of them protested, so I moved in and that’s where I sleep.

“You missed a lot of craziness,” Dean laughs and reaches for a box of CD’s. I take them from him and make a shooing motion.

“You need to rest, too.”

“I couldn’t sleep anymore,” he admits.

“Why not?” I layer the discs on the table and make sure the remaining ones are within reach for the merch crew when the show starts. CDs and tour shirts always sold fast.

“Because, I heard you up at some ungodly hour this morning,” he rolls his eyes. “I knew you’d be in here as soon as the arena opened the doors for us to load in.”

“Well, we have to get things unloaded. The big truck was already here when we arrived early this morning.” The big truck is the eighteen-wheeler that houses all of their equipment and lights. The production for the show is state of the art, and there is a massive crew who’s in charge of getting things set up as quickly as possible. Tear down is just as fast. I have nothing to do with the set up, lights, equipment, or anything else regarding the stage production. We have a team of people who are in charge of that.

“Have you eaten anything?” he asks. Geez, what is it with him?

“No,” I shake my head. “I’ll grab something in a bit.”

A hand lands on my wrist, and I glance up into his emerald green eyes. Dean is a worrier to the fullest. He wants everyone to be cared for, and while I appreciate it, I don’t need to be coddled.

“Come have lunch with me, at least,” he states. It isn’t a question, either. “This can wait for the others to finish.”

“Are you sure you don’t need to clear that with Linc?” I know I’m being sarcastic, but they already knew how much I hated having a bodyguard.

“Actually, I cleared it with Wes,” he shrugs. Wes is the head of their security team and takes his job seriously…almost too seriously. “Which is another reason why I came to find you. You ditched Linc.”

“Great,” I roll my eyes.

“Leave the merch table for Heath,” Dean demands, reaching for my hand. He removes the CD’s and sets them on the table. My awful OCD has me cringing at the thought of just leaving them there in an unorganized mess. “I mean it, Bristol. You need to eat.”

“Fine,” I sigh and let him lead me back through the arena and out to the bus. As I open the door, the smell of fresh coffee reaches my nose, and I inhale deeply. The sound of two more voices surprises me, because I find our two guitarists already sitting on the leather couch with cups in hand.

Evan Miles, our lead guitarist, with his brown eyes and soft pouty lips, watches me over the rim of his cup as I pass. Austin Zane, our rhythm guitarist, with pretty-boy bleached hair that’s undercut and hangs in his pale blue eyes, does the same. I ignore them and make myself a cup, choosing to take a seat in the small dinette instead of joining them on the couch.

“Sound check is at four,” I tell them and take a sip of coffee. “Food will be available after you’re done. I’ll have that set up.”

“You need to eat something before then,” Dean reminds me.

“Yes, dad,” I growl and sip more coffee. His eyes heat with my words, and I look away as if I don’t see them.

“Why are you so sassy this morning?” Hunter asks as he emerges from the bunk area. His black hair is all in disarray, but he doesn’t seem to care as he fumbles for a coffee cup. He pushes the hair out of his eyes and scratches the back of his head where the undercut is shaved close to the scalp. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting basketball shorts without a shirt, and the massive Chinese dragon wrapped around a crying woman tattooed on his back stands out as he fumbles around in the fridge.

“I’m always sassy on show days,” I tease. “You know this.”

A cup of fruit is set in front of me, and I glance up at Hunter. He may be the wild one, but he knows me better than the others. “I don’t even need to ask if you’ve eaten today.”

I take the fork he offers and dig into my food to keep them happy. I swear, some days, I want to hug them, and on other days…I want to strangle each and every one of them.

“Thank you,” I say. All of them relax, and Dean turns on the television. He finds a movie, and they all sit quietly while they try to shake the night before and work through what I’m sure is a mediocre hangover.

“What time is it?” Sebastian, our bassist, yawns as he appears in a pair of baggy shorts. His long, wavy blond hair is up in a sloppy manbun, and he yawns again while he rubs at the back of his neck.

“It’s two-thirty,” I mumbled around a strawberry.

“Man, what the fuck did we do last night? I feel terrible.” Sebastian is usually all business, but he still likes to let loose on the days we have off, last night being one of them.

“I have no fucking clue,” Hunter mumbles and leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes.

Dean’s eyes flash over to mine, and I immediately open up my phone so that I don’t have to look at him. Things got out of hand the night before, and I’m hoping Hunter and Sebastian don’t mention it. Obviously, Dean remembers it all, because he stayed mostly sober the night before.

Evan doesn’t comment, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Austin makes an excuse to shower and heads back to the bunks. I down my coffee and put my dishes in the sink. “I’m heading back in. You guys need to rest some more. I’ll come get you for sound check.”

“Bristol?” Dean calls out before I can make my escape. I cringe and turn around. Four pair of eyes are staring at me, and I shake my head in a silent plea for them to just let me go.

“I really need to go,” I plea. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do today.”

“We need to talk about last night,” Hunter says, looking a bit more awake.

“No,” I shake my head. “No, we don’t. Just forget about it. I already have.”

“So, you’re just going to forget that at some point in the evening, every one of us kissed you?” Dean stands and starts to walk toward me but pauses when I hold out my hand for him to stop.

“Yes, yes, I am,” I say and make a hasty exit from the bus. I hear at least three of them let out a string of vicious curses as I close the door.

My name is Bristol Mateo, and I am the tour manager for the #1 rock band, Cycle of Sin. It takes a lot to keep a band of five rockstars on schedule, but I’ve been doing it for just over two years now.

As a new tour begins, I find myself confused over what happened after a night of partying between shows. The kiss from each of them is laced with enough power to destroy me, and my mind is riddled with guilt over the things I feel for them individually.

Dean, Evan, Hunter, Sebastian, and Austin heat my body in ways that are deemed immoral. As we tour across the world, I find myself falling for each of them equally. When they vow their hearts to me as one, I realize I am meant to be loved by them all.

I belong to Cycle of Sin, and Cycle of Sin belongs to me.

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